


When the body speaks

by dracorys



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Character Study, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-17
Updated: 2017-02-17
Packaged: 2018-09-25 04:24:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9802520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dracorys/pseuds/dracorys
Summary: After all, Yuri Plisetsky has shaped his body, heart and mind after the ice. It feels only natural when his skin has been touched by the cold floor more than by any other person. What does it matter if he is not passionate about it? That's the place where he belongs to be admired.So when Otabek entered his life, it was abrupt, it was new, and it was warm.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Special thanks to all the [wonderful](http://muspellssynir.tumblr.com) [people](http://modernart2012.tumblr.com) that helped me through this.

_(22:19) I wonder so many things._

 

There has always been a sense of ownership. Does he own the rink, or does the rink own him? Yuri wants to believe he is the owner, that the space is his to use freely, to jump, to spin. The rink is his stage to perform, but it is also a place for him to grow. He tries and he fails, he practices until his muscles are sore, he thinks about his next movements, he finds himself. Or not, but the chance is there.

 And yet, deep in his mind, he knows the rink owns him. He has molded his life around the rink. It has always been like this for as long as he remembers. After all, Yuri Plisetsky has shaped his body, heart and mind after the ice. It feels only natural when his skin has been touched by the cold floor more than by any other person. What does it matter if he is not passionate about it? That's the place where he belongs to be admired.

As he skates, he feels the glances around him. There is a grace in his movements to be envious about and it is hard to look aside when a Biellmann spin is perfectly done.

So when Otabek entered his life, it was abrupt, it was new, and it was warm.

Just like that, the afternoon they spent in Barcelona years ago was the beginning of something he couldn’t quite describe. But of something he was sure; Otabek was an entirely new experience.

They talked and talked for hours. Sometimes they didn’t even need words. What for, if they had each other’s presence, a cup of tea and some music in the background.

Otabek made him feel fluttery in the stomach, in a way he had forgotten years ago, way back when getting a gold was still something new.

Otabek still makes him feel something, Yuri thinks, as now a wrenching sensation has settled on his guts.

In all his years skating, he has seen older skaters go through the same lack of passion, moved just by the competitive bug or the social pressure. He has also watched them fail and leave. He saw Viktor lose his motivation and lead an empty life, until he found the Katsudon, that is. He knew, he was leading an empty life too. Getting a gold in an international event was supposed to be exciting. The tea that arrived from Almaty on his box mail  for his 16th birthday was far better.  
  
  
  
_(22:20) I bet you have no fucking idea what I’m talking about._

 

So he questioned his relationship with the ice. The rink was no longer the only place that gave him peace. Instead, Otabek made him feel at ease and with no need of bruising his body or abusing his feet. Otabek left him with a warm fuzzy feeling in his chest. He didn’t feel empty anymore.

 It's not like he thought about quitting, God forbid it. But his motives for skating, his purpose for it all, changed. If he skated for himself, for the sake of an honor, his family, or because it was the only thing he had known his whole life -it didn’t matter. He started to see the allure of it in the curve of Otabek’s back when he bent his body forward on a spin, in the shape of the older skater’s thighs when he gained enough momentum to jump, and in the tip of his red nose when he had spent too much time on the rink. It was a new point of view, one that made him skate with renewed determination. The competitive feeling, fueled by Otabek.

 There was a fresh eagerness to be on the podium again.

 Everything started to mean a little more: The lazy laps, the simple spins, even the failed jumps were seen through fresh eyes. Failing a jump implies that something crashes—his hands, his hips, his heart—against the unforgiving ice. Falling is always hard on the body, but then, it was hard on his very core too. When he fell for Otabek, he realized as much, because there was no other way he could have gotten that sappy.

 

  _(23:01) I wish you would tell me more about that silly book._

 

On his 17th birthday, a new doubt assaulted his mind, after a first kiss that happened way too fast for the recklessness of the act to be registered, when Otabek to his surprise, kissed him back.

 Was it happiness, this new something? He wondered later that day, alone in the darkness of his room. Otabek made him wonder if he was truly happy before they met. It was a simple doubt that came back to Yuri’s mind when from time to time he would find himself smiling at his phone or when he was inhaling deeply just to discover the faint smell of the young Altin in his own clothes. He didn’t remember ever feeling that way when skating, at least not before Otabek. Now, when Yuri remembers that passage of his life, he is certain. It was happiness.

  _(06:20) Davai!_

 

It took little time for him to start noticing more stuff, to learn some deep shit. It was different, in example, the bruising feeling on his knees against the ice, than to drop to the floor in purpose, to please his boyfriend. He noticed the sharp air against his hot face after a satisfying practice was nothing when compared to Beka’s warm hands on his cheek after a kiss.

 The heat in his body after a routine perfectly done, the piercing air leaving his lungs, the gratification after a jump that required weeks of practice. All that warmth on his chest from the ice and exhausting practices was replaced by chapped lips on his forehead. And so Yuri asks himself, is the rink replaceable? If so, is Beka as well?

Yuri skates a lazy lap, something strange swirling in his impulsive little body. The usual restless feeling that lingers on his chest is not there. He goes for a simple loop, but his mind is not there. He falls. He feels numb. There are too many ways to cope, but he doesn’t need to think about that now. He gets up and ignores the pain radiating through his body that he no longer knows if it is in his hip or in his heart.

_(22:58) I miss your hands on my hair._

 

 Yuri felt like he was in heaven; for months, off season, on season, it didn't matter. The Skype calls at midnight, the stolen kisses when they could see each other, the morning texts. It felt surreal. Inches or miles apart, they had each other. He should have know it would not last forever.

  _(23:47) I miss you._

 

But even in heaven, the relationship needed work. It was expected, when both were important people in their little world. There were competitions to train for, golds to achieve, a Yakov to listen to and an Otabek he really wanted to see. He had a duty, a purpose. He knew that the thing he had with Otabek was important but the questions was, how important? What was supposed to come first? Keep his place on the podium with a smug smile? Which accomplishment felt better? Grabbing yet another gold or making his boyfriend blush with some cocky remark?

If there was a right answer for that (there wasn’t) it does not  matter now, anyways.

 

_(14:35) I guess the best GPFs were the ones we spent together._

 

Somehow, even with all the difficulties he was aware of so many things he didn’t care about before. He cared more about his surroundings. The training became more intense, the jumps were higher, even the calls early in the morning when the sun was just getting out and both were sleepy meant a bit more. For the first time, his life made sense. He had something to fight for. And it was worth the effort, because when they met again in front of all the cameras, surrounded by irrelevant people, it was not about the competition itself. It was about competing in the same space, to achieve the same goal, to fight the same battle with someone who marked his life.

 

(22:08) _I’m regretting not going for that walk after training._

 

Otabek’s laugh was not a common thing. At least not on TV, not with strangers. Yuri was aware of that. His heart felt warmer every time he listened to it, even when Beka was mocking him and throwing some random book at him because he was being the little shit he used to be. Sometimes it was not even a full laugh: it was a small one that he could feel against his neck, and _hey, that’s ticklish_. Some nights it was not even a laugh, but a vague smile when Yuri’s hair was spilled on the pillow and they stared at each other, happy to be there. Sometimes, when he does something stupid, he expects a laugh that never comes.

 

_(18:50) I can't believe im listening to your stupid arias._

  
Yuri is aware that half of their significant moments were in a rink and he refuses to let it go, when it is all he has now. A fucking rink. Icy, painful, hard on his bones. It does not matter, he keeps jumping, and keeps falling. Of course, the best moments were actually spent in tinier rooms, with no witnesses around but skating has never felt so raw when he compares it to being with Otabek and this is the realest shit he has and if he has to hold onto it to keep himself sane, then there is no other option. He does not see any wrong in loving Otabek for the rest of his life.

  
There is no case in denying that Otabek left an impact on his life. Even now that he’s gone.

 The only answer he has for all the questions that still linger on his mind is the rink itself. It is still there as the only constant in his life. He skates his feelings away, because if he is honest, he does not need an answer. Or at least, he does not want an answer.

 Now, the rink is the only thing left as a reminder of what they had, as a reminder that Otabek is not the only motivation in his life. Or at least, that is what people keep telling him; that he is young, he has time, he should focus on what is important.  What is important? Having one more gold?  Winning another competition that he has already won? How is he supposed to enjoy triumph alone now when he has already tasted the sweet victory along with someone else? Fuck, he is upset.

 

His knees are bruised, and he decides it’s time to go home. No more skating today. No more stares from nosy people.

 

_(22:47) Fuck Beka, I’m talking to you. Talk to me._

 

When he started dating Beka, there were a lot of new things in his life, he realized as much. And suddenly, all those contrasts now had a new sense. Crashing after a jump, breaking a bone, turning a ligament, none of those feel as violent as the news he received months ago. Probably nothing is going to feel that violent ever again. He is certain.

 

_(12:39) I went to visit you today._

 

He was alone, Otabek was in another country. He was alone in his room, while his boyfriend was in a hospital five hours away. He did not know the details until the next day, but it was enough to close his eyes to hear the clear an indistinct sound of the screech of tires against the asphalt. His imagination ran wild, and his heart felt too heavy on his small frame.

  
And suddenly, he is in a rush to open the door. There is not enough air in his lungs. His lips are trembling. What the fuck is going on, why does his stomach feels this weak, so revolted. His eyes are stinging.

 He is not very good at handling strong emotions, he has always been explosive, and this time is no exception. He knows no one is watching, but Yuri feels so fucking vulnerable, so he locks himself in the bathroom anyways. And he bawls like there is no tomorrow, and keeps crying until his face is all swollen up. Its simply not true.

 Even after months, he find himself in the same position that he was that night. He is crouched down in front of the toilet, emptying his stomach. After all those months,the nauseous feeling has not gone away no matter what. For a moment everything seems blurry and he is pretty sure his lungs have stopped working. As a trickle of saliva still hangs from the corner of his mouth, Yuri feels another gag in the back of his throat while Otabek crosses his mind again.

 It takes him a couple of hours to calm down. By now, it is almost a routine. He jumps, and falls. He endures, and fails. He cries, and texts.

 

_(22:47) Are you alright?_

_  
_

 Although Beka hasn’t answered his phone in the last couple of months, he keeps trying. 

 

_(00:19) Come over. Lets have some tea._

 

Otabek never answers, and he knows, that somewhere in Almaty, lies Otabek’s wrecked phone.

Yuri finds himself in silence more often now. No arias, no punk rock, no notifications from his phone, no incoming calls, no new messages on Skype, at least not from Otabek.

He misses the little noises that decorated his night, the soft shine of his laptop illuminating his face as Otabek linked him another classical piece for his next new routine.

There is no doubt then. The rinks owns him, he realizes, as he doesn’t stop skating even when Otabek is not there anymore.

So he texts him again.

 

_(05:12)  I wish you were here._

 

**Author's Note:**

> This was a wild experience, being my first fic ever and doing it in a second language uff  
> So, thank you if you have read until here! Come and say [hello](http://draco-rys.tumblr.com) ❤


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